


This doesn't even get a title, please just find jesus

by itsnotlove



Series: I adore you [6]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Desks, Exhibitionism, I don't even know anymore, Informants Gone Wild, Like, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Not, Trolling, can they just, do, gdi, god damn fucking shitlords, god fucking damn it, honestly what the fuck are these two, how is this sexually appealing to them?, human!Tsukumoya, just find some of that chill, surely - Freeform, these two are the worst i hate them so much, this, you're both informants so it shouldn't be too hard for you to find some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8554225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotlove/pseuds/itsnotlove
Summary: God damn these two I swear to fucking god





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmberleDb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberleDb/gifts), [Apetunias](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Apetunias).



The last rays of day streamed through the large windows behind Izaya, illuminating his outline and making him look almost angelic. He wore an innocent, if knowing, smile, and his hands rest gently atop his desk. He hadn’t moved once since his visitor had arrived, only calling from his desk to say that the door was unlocked.

 

A client sat opposite him, fidgeting nervously in his chair as he wrestled with his better judgement. It was weird to just let a stranger in without seeing who they were, right? And even weirder to not open the door. After some internal debate, the client decided that Izaya might just be eccentric, and since he seemed nice enough...

 

“Uh...” The client cleared his throat and looked around the office, unsure of where to begin. Would Izaya refuse to help him once he found out why he was here? “It’s my wife, and… my girlfriend.”

 

“ _ Girl _ friend?”

 

“Y-Yeah, my… girlfriend.”

 

Nodding carefully, Izaya didn’t bother to hide his bemusement. If the client wanted to play a game and twist things, then he certainly wouldn’t discourage it. He shifted in his chair and uncrossed his legs, stretching them out a little further than he might have usually, before linking his ankles.

 

“So what seems to be the problem? You’d think a man like yourself would enjo-”

 

“A man like me?!” The client interrupted, hot anger bubbling beneath the surface. Just what was being implied? “What’s that supposed to mean!?”

 

“A man having an affair.” Izaya replied happily, tilting his head a little to the left as his smile widened. “If you weren’t interested in the attention, you wouldn’t be in a situation like this.”

 

“O-Oh… No, I didn’t want this. I just couldn’t help it, y’know? H-Sh-... They seduced me!”

 

“Is that so?” Izaya shifted in his seat again, sliding himself slightly further down.

 

**_Thump._ **

 

“What was that?!” The client asked, placing both hands on the armrests of his chair so he could push himself up a tad.

 

“What was what?”

 

“That noise!”

 

“What noise?”

 

“That thud! It-”

 

“Oh, that?” Izaya leaned back in his chair as he raised his arms, bending them at the elbow before tucking his hands behind his head. “I just kicked something useless.”

 

Suspicious, the client sat himself back down and leaned forward. “Don’t mess around with me.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it!”

 

“I’m very dangerous, y’know. I’ve got connections.”

 

“Oh, my...”

 

“Yeah, with the Yakuza.” Grinning, the client leaned even further. “If someone messes with me, they make ‘em disappear.”

 

“And they can’t help you with this problem?” Izaya asks as he slides his foot further along the floor. He only needs to stretch out a little to reach whatever it is he’s attempting to locate, and uses his toes to massage it once he does.

 

“Yeah, that’s right. I want to hire an outsider, and your name came up. Thought I’d come and test you out, see if you’re worth my time.” Comfortable now that he’s threatened Izaya with his apparent connections, the man’s tone becomes more confident. He leans back in his chair and spreads his legs, making himself seem as large as he feels. “I scare my friends, y’know, so I have’ta find someone with balls.”

 

“That does seem to be your preference.”

 

“My... what?” The client’s confidence wavers, as he’s unable to follow Izaya’s thinking.

 

“Balls.” Izaya’s foot presses more firmly against the useless thing beneath the desk, and is rewarded with a gasp. 

 

“Huh!?”

 

“Is that too crude for you?” Something grips his calf, digging into the muscles in a way that Izaya can only describe as  _ cute.  _ “Let me rephrase: Searching for testicles seems to be something you enjoy. One could even call it a hobby!”

 

The information didn’t sink in at first, but slowly, the gears in the client’s head began to turn. He flew out of his chair, sending it flying backward in the process, and lunged at Izaya’s desk. It was only once his hands hit the edge and he was preparing to jump over it and throttle the bastard on the other side that he stopped, a deep feeling of dread washing over him as he realised Izaya was laughing. 

 

It took another moment for his brain to catch up with what his brain was seeing, as Izaya had moved so quickly that he hadn’t noticed it at first. But there he was, with his arm outstretched as if he’d thrown something, and an even larger grin.

 

“Eh? What’s wrong?”

 

The client shrunk backward as his ear twitched against whatever it was that had lodged itself behind his ear. He held his breath as he reached for it, his fingers flinching away once or twice before he finally plucked up the courage to grab at it. 

 

“Is that where my pen went? I’m so clumsy!” Izaya’s chuckle only barely managed to cut off his sigh, and he kneed the top of the desk. Another chuckle sounded, this one in a different voice, causing Izaya to speak once again. “Why don’t you sit down before you hurt yourself.”

 

Confused and humiliated, the client decided it might be best to follow Izaya’s advice. He sat himself back down, telling himself that he was imagining the sound of something unzipping (Izaya’s hands were on the desk in full view, so maybe it he’d misheard), and pulled his knees together.

 

“I’m… I’m  not, y’know… I’m not a fag or anything. I don’t let him near my arse or anything like that.”

 

“Is that what makes a person a ‘fag’?”

 

“Yeah, it does.” The client responds, gritting his teeth and staring at his hands. 

 

“So it’s just your boyfriend who’s a fag? You’re just a straight man, le-” Izaya stopped and took a breath as his fingers dug into the desk. “-lead down a path that you had no control over.”

 

“Yeah, that’s right.” Latching on to Izaya’s logic, the man looked up with earnest eyes. His forehead wrinkled as he inspected Izaya’s now flushed expression, but he didn’t think too much of it. “I was tricked! It’s not my fault!”

 

“You’re just that easily led.”

 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m tough! And people don’t usual-”

 

“But isn’t the ‘fag’ tougher, if he were able to take you on? Maybe he’s...” Izaya sighed again, though it sounded more frustrated than anything else. “Maybe he’s smarter, if he’s able to convince such a straight man to bed him.”

 

“I’m tougher than he is! And smart! He’s not better than me, he’s just a faggot!”

 

“Then you did this willingly?” Any composure Izaya had lost was regained the instant his client’s expression turned to one of shame. “And now you’d like someone to end it for you, because you’re too weak to do it yourself.”

 

“...”

 

“Weren’t you wanting to find something incriminating about your boyfriend?”

 

“...”

 

“Has he finally decided to open his  _ filthy  _ mouth-” Shifting again, Izaya ignored the confused look he received at his choice of description. “-and talk to your wife?”

 

“She’ll kill me if she finds out. She’s a crazy bitch-”

 

“She must be if she decided to marry you.”

 

“Don’t you talk about my wife like that! She’s beautiful, y’know? Just a bit angry!”

 

“So she doesn’t deserve what you’ve done?”

 

“No, I mean, she stopped… y’know… I’ve got needs like any man, and she wouldn’t help me out anymore!” 

 

“And so you decided to look elsewhere? Well, at least you haven’t replaced her with another woman.”

 

The same laugh that sounded earlier sounded again, though this time it was decidedly more muffled. “What was that?!”

 

“What was… what?” Izaya’s eyelids fluttered and he gripped the desk more forcefully.

 

“Are you laughin’ at me?!”

 

“ _ Yes. _ ”

 

“WHO WAS THAT?!” The man leapt out of his chair once again, but the aggression he’d had earlier had disappeared. He backed away from the desk, his arms bent at the elbows and his hands straight, as if he was preparing for a fight. “WHO ELSE IS HERE?!”

 

“Do you think I have someone hiding in the corners, waiting on your every word?” Laughing freely, Izaya’s shoulders tensed and his bottom lip trembled slightly. His face had darkened again, but all of this was lost on his client. “Maybe they’re under my desk? Care to look?”

 

“DON’T MAKE FUN OF ME-!”

 

“Just how important do you think you are, Slon? If you’ve been sent here in such a poor disguise, then you must realise that no one cares if you live or die.”

 

“WH-” Slon was cut off by the sound of another laugh, then by Izaya’s strangled sort of grunt. “I DON’T- LISTEN, I’M NOT-”

 

“Now who’s underestimating who?”

 

“BASTARD! I’LL KILL Y-”

 

“Those weren’t your or- _ ah- _ ders.”

 

Slon’s eyes scanned the room, looking for a solution that didn’t exist. With a loud yell of frustration, he turned on his heel and stomped toward the door. Even as it slammed behind him, it wasn’t enough to drown out the loud, lustful groan coming from Izaya’s desk.

 

Back inside Izaya’s apartment, the desk chair slid across the hardwood floor silently, making enough of a gap for a smirking Japanese man to crawl out. He wiped the corner of his lip as he watched Izaya zip himself up, eyes wide with amusement and satisfaction.

 

“As usual, you were too obvious.”

 

“Says the bastard who had his face in my lap.”

 

“You were fondling me.”

 

“I was not.”

 

“You were.”

 

“Weren’t.”

 

“At least say ‘thank you’.” Tsukumoya scooted himself onto the desk in front of Izaya, his tone heavy with condescension.

 

“Are you feeling sentimental, Tsukumoya? For a B- performance-”

 

“I’d give you a C-, actually. You were so loud! If Slon wasn’t such an idiot-”

 

“There was nothing wrong with  _ my  _ performance, it was for your benefit, after all.” Izaya leaned back in his chair and lifted his leg, then planted a foot directly between Tsukumoya’s. “Don’t tell me you believed it?”

 

“I suppose I’ll have to compare your reactions, then.” Tsukumoya’s eyes trailed down to Izaya’s foot, then back up to his face. “I suggest you prepare yourself,  _ Izaya _ .”


End file.
